the swords

9:52 AM 6/15/10

I had said I would describe an incident that happened with swords. I'm not sure that I'm in the right mood to describe it, though.

My fatigue attack isn't as bad today. I had to fix a contaminated clothing problem by getting rid of some things that I was continuing to wear even though they might have had drug residues on them. That SEEMED to help.

The swords incident was something where I wish that I had had a camera with me when it happened. I mentioned it a few days ago because I was talking about how it seemed like he flipped me off with a cigar in his hand. He did something similar once before.

His friend Chris was still working with us. Chris might possibly still work there sometimes - I see him once in a while - but he is hardly ever there, and he might have quit. I don't know. Chris has Tourette's and Klinefelter's syndrome, and cannot read, or just barely can read, so he always had a job coach helping him.

I think my boyfriend in high school, Terry, had Tourette's, but it was less well known back then, and he wasn't diagnosed. Terry used to just blurt things out, loudly, and sometimes would shout curse words and say things that didn't make any sense. Chris seemed the same way. Usually I couldn't understand what he was saying.

One day Curtis told me that Chris did something funny because of his Tourette's syndrome. He demonstrated to me that Chris had started flipping him off with both middle fingers, one after the other, again and again, for no reason. I was laughing hysterically while he demonstrated this.

A while later, I was making a pizza, and I glanced up because I saw someone standing near the salad bar. Curtis was standing there holding up two long knives that looked like swords, one in each hand, like he was about to fight. They were ordinary knives from the produce department, not really swords. I saw him for only a second, and I started to laugh, and I flipped him off with both middle fingers the way Chris had done, because the two swords looked like that. I want to describe his facial expression - his mouth opened with surprise, and he lowered the two swords and walked back to the sink where he had come from. It's hard for me to write about his facial expressions and emotions - I feel like I can't even say the things that I saw - but, he looked delighted.

I'm sure I was probably affected by drugs back then. I used to be more happy, playful, and spontaneous with him. I gradually stopped acting that way, partly because I cleaned up and patched up all the things that were contaminated with St. John's Wort. I wish I could explain that to him. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't because something bad happened, it was mostly just because I wasn't using drugs anymore - that's why I stopped being so friendly, and made less eye contact.

(The voices are always talking about eye contact. There are two things that have changed my eye contact with him: 1. Using drugs, or not using them. 2. Trying to reach him by phone, text, email, or paper note, and not getting a reply. If I don't get replies, I feel rejected, and I can't make eye contact as much anymore. This is important for people who are interested in seduction, or are having problems in a relationship, and they notice that someone isn't making eye contact anymore. It might mean that something happened that made them feel rejected, and, if you believe in the existence of cyberharassment, hackers interfering in email, and all that, then you might be able to ask them the right questions, like 'Did you try to call me or email me and not get through?' or that kind of thing.)

I wish I had had a camera when I saw him with the swords. It lasted only a second, but I took a picture in my mind. What I am going to say will sound like a joke, but it isn't a joke, I'm serious. Standing there with the swords, for a second, he looked noble and heroic, like someone in a movie, but also, he looked small, fragile, and vulnerable. He looked like he was about to fight a stronger adversary, in a hopeless battle, and he would lose, but he was going to fight anyway. And, maybe he really would win. Somehow he looked beautiful and ridiculous at the same time, and even though he was fully dressed, he seemed naked, and I felt a strong feeling - I wanted to laugh and cry, and I started laughing, but I loved him, and I wanted to protect him, but I felt that he was protecting me. It's impossible to describe. It was a very intense feeling.

When I have been attracted to guys in their late teens and early twenties - I had this feeling with Martin, and I feel it with Curtis - there is a sense of transition. They are changing from a child into a man. They want to be respected, and they want to be seen as a strong person. I am seeing them somewhere in between, and I feel protective and maternal towards them, but aware that they are an adult at the same time. I've had that feeling with both of them.

He told me he collected knives and swords. I was very interested in them. (When he told me it was his birthday, I said, 'Oh, I should have gotten you a knife.') Once, long ago, we were saying what it would be like if we had a roommate - I had said that I had a strange life and it would be hard for people to live with me. He said that if someone lived with him, they would see some strange things, too, like his sword collection. I told him that I thought the sword collection was awesome.

It's true that I am trying very hard not to use drugs anymore and not to get exposed to the residues, but there were a lot of things that I could do when I was on drugs that I can't easily do now. I could make more eye contact, I could touch him, I could be playful with him. I feel depressed thinking that I can't do those things now.

I've been in bad shape for a few weeks now with this severe fatigue and hypersomnia, and I hope that I fixed it - maybe it's something I had no control over, and then again, maybe it's something that I fixed successfully, and hopefully it's over. So everything has seemed very depressing and hopeless for the past few weeks, as I've been able to do nothing at all in my own life, except sleep, and write blogs, and obsess about my friend. I want to have a life of my own - otherwise, I have nothing to give. I can't have a relationship if I have no life of my own. I need my own hobbies and projects, my own knowledge, my own money, my own strength. I can only wait and see over the next few weeks, see if the severe fatigue comes back or goes away.

But it's 10:30 AM on my day off work, and I'm out of bed. That is a good sign. Maybe I will be able to get something done.